


Tubal Litigation

by Twisted_Mind



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Lydia Martin, Alpha Peter Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, BAMF Stiles, Lawyer Peter Hale, M/M, Misogyny, Omega Derek Hale, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Politics, Pre-Slash, Reproductive health, Trope Subversion/Inversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 08:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11756250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: He licks his lips. He knows this is the moment of truth, so he doesn’t mince words. “I want to challenge the court for the right to make decisions regarding my reproductive health without an alpha’s permission. Tubal ligation, specifically.”At that, Peter’s eyes widen, and he sits up in his chair. “I take it your alpha doesn’t approve?”He can feel his eyes narrowing into a glare, but he doesn’t give a shit. “I don’t have an alpha.”Peter does a double-take, looking him up and down. “You’re an omega, correct?” Stiles nods. “Then—are you mated to a beta?”He tips his chin up. It’s really not Peter’s business, but he’d expected this walking in. “I’m not mated, Mr. Hale.”Peter rests his forearms on his desk, hands folded and eyes intent on Stiles’s face. “You have my attention, Mr. Stilinski.”





	Tubal Litigation

**Author's Note:**

> Heeeeeeey, so, this week's update is definitely brought to you by the fact that I managed to get ahead with my fic-writing, because my laptop needed to go to the doctor. *lip quiver* 
> 
> This _fic_ , however, is definitely brought to you by me and my ranty. Things get political here, people. Stiles is angry, and 10 000% done with sexist bullshit. **Additional warnings** for discussions of medical procedures, and the gross attitudes that anyone who has a uterus and/or has ever presented feminine will recognize. 
> 
> There are additional notes at the end of the fic to explain more about gender and biology in this omegaverse.

 

“Come in, Mr. Stilinski. I believe my nephew sent you to me?”

Stiles walks into Peter Hale’s office, trying to size the man up. He wonders if the guy’s like his nephew, if he’s on-board with Derek’s plan to “make him see reason.” He sits in the comfortable seat offered to him, and thinks that Peter, at least, has a better grasp of social niceties than Derek.

“Yeah, Derek told me to call your secretary and mention his name.”

Peter settles across from him, at ease with his hands folded in his lap and the big shiny desk separating them. “Whatever for?”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. He says, “Legal representation,” as dryly as he knows how.

Given the twitch of Peter’s lips, the sass doesn’t go unnoticed. “I gathered as much. I’m just curious as to what you need it _for_. Hard to provide quality legal counsel otherwise.”

He licks his lips. He knows this is the moment of truth, so he doesn’t mince words. “I want to challenge the court for the right to make decisions regarding my reproductive health without an alpha’s permission. Tubal ligation, specifically.”

At that, Peter’s eyes widen, and he sits up in his chair. “I take it your alpha doesn’t approve?”

He can feel his eyes narrowing into a glare, but he doesn’t give a shit. “I don’t have an alpha.”

Peter does a double-take, looking him up and down. “You’re an omega, correct?” Stiles nods. “Then—are you mated to a beta?”

He tips his chin up. It’s really not Peter’s business, but he’d expected this walking in. “I’m not mated, Mr. Hale.”

Peter rests his forearms on his desk, hands folded and eyes intent on Stiles’s face. “You have my attention, Mr. Stilinski.”

And, well, he never got this far with the first lawyer, so he’ll consider it a victory. He takes a deep breath, and lays out his argument. “I’m twenty-five. I’ve participated in all seven required mating runs—and don’t get me started on the antiquated patriarchal bullshit that forces omegas to participate in mating runs for seven consecutive years—and haven’t been mated against my will. And yes, it would have been non-consensual mating, regardless of what the law says. Especially since I should have received a medical exemption for the last three runs. As it is, choosing to become pregnant has health risks I’m not willing to take, even if I wanted children. And, because of the current state of the laws, I can’t even get an IUD, despite the fact that I have the insurance coverage for one.”

Peter’s nodding. “I take it you don’t have an alpha family member willing to sign the necessary paperwork for you?”

He takes another deep breath. He’s not going to lose his temper. He’s _not._  “I don’t have an alpha family member, period. My mother was an omega, and died when I was a child. My father’s a beta, and my only other living family is my paternal grandfather, who is currently in a care facility and has been deemed unfit to handle his own affairs. And is another beta, besides.”

Peter nods again. “It explains why you’ve decided to go the legal route. Alpha family members are usually easier.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess, but I’d still have a problem with my government thinking that I’m not capable of making decisions about my own body—even though I’m apparently capable of participating in the democratic process, funding said government, and serving its interests with the military.”

He’s not sure what to make of Peter’s smile. It’s too sharp to be kind, or even amused. He braces himself for the same infuriating rhetoric he’s gotten from lawyers so far, but Peter surprises him. “You realize that a case like this, if we take it to court, will be a long battle, yes?”

“I’m aware.”

“And you’re also aware that, should this court battle drag out all the way to the Supreme Court—and I fully expect it will—that it will likely cost you hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m an omega, not an idiot. I’m aware that the cost of having a lawyer on retainer is significant, and that taking this to court is likely to be a years-long endeavour. I don’t care. Adult omegas deserve to make decisions about their own health without being treated like children who need their parents to sign consent forms. As far as I’m concerned, the only consent that matters when it comes to my uterus is mine.”

Peter’s smile is a little more genuine this time, and some of the tension twisting up his stomach dissipates. “I can respect that, Mr. Stilinski. It’s not me you have to convince, given that if we win, it’ll be a landmark ruling.”

His breath catches. “So you’ll take my case?”

“I’ve wanted to make my mark on the world. This seems like a good way to do it—especially since you strike me as the sort of person who’ll stop at nothing to achieve your goal.”

He smirks, because yeah, pretty much. He has a good job, an inheritance, and an investment portfolio. He’ll get what he’s after one way or another. “Why couldn’t your nephew have inherited some of that intelligence?”

Rather than get offended on Derek’s behalf, Peter quirks an eyebrow and makes an inquisitive noise. Stiles decides to elaborate. “I was visiting Lydia. She’s a friend, we went to highschool together. And when she stepped out to pick up the kids from school, Derek started asking me when I was going to mate and have pups. I told him that just because he’s about to pop out his third litter doesn’t mean we’re all dying to do the same. Thank god the kids seemed to have inherited their sire’s brains, because their dam spent an hour trying to tell me that I’d be happier if I let a nice alpha love me and give me pups. And then he gave me the number for your office, probably hoping you’d be like all the other lawyers and tell me that the current legislation only exists to protect me.”

Incredulity and unholy glee are warring for dominance on Peter’s face. “And what was the lovely Lydia’s opinion on this?”

“When I called her to rant about it, she promised me that she’d hammer it through her husband’s skull that not all of us want to be stay-at-home dams. Or parents at all.” He looks down, remembering the phone call when Lydia had rebelled. “Her parents treated her like an omega, you know? She was tiny and beautiful, and they didn’t expect her to be much of alpha. They wanted to control her the way they would an omega daughter, because they were rich and had a family legacy to protect. So understands better than most." He shakes his head and refocuses. “But you’re going to take my case?”

A pleased, hungry grin stretches across Peter’s face as he lounges back in his chair. “Of course. I’ll even waive the first year’s worth of fees if you tell me how you managed to get through seven mating runs unclaimed.”

Stiles laughs. “The first time was actually by accident,” he admits.

“Now I’m even more intrigued.”

“Okay, so, my best friend Scott, he’s a beta, and he wasn’t going to let me go on the mating run by myself, but we were both so anxious it essentially crippled us. If it wasn’t causing me panic attacks, it was setting off his asthma. The only thing that really helped was for us to be together. We slept in the same bed for a week before the run.” Peter’s eyes are glittering with curiosity, so he continues. “And, of course, doing that messed with our scents in this huge, overwhelming way. When I went on the run, I smelled like a weird combination of omega pheromones and a beta-omega pair. I smelled like I was already mated. Of course, I didn’t find that out until after—at the time, I just thought that I’d managed to hide myself and my scent well enough to not get caught.”

“And what of your friend? Surely his scent was affected as well.”

He smiles, because this is his favourite part of the story. “Yeah, well, he wound up mated himself—he smelled so much like omega that he attracted a couple alphas. One of them liked him enough that she asked to mate him. Neither of them realized that they weren’t straight before that, but Scott and Allison are honestly great together, and they’re hoping to find a surrogate if they can’t adopt.”

Peter gives an Olympic-level eye-roll. “That is so sickeningly adorable that I can hear the Republicans breaking out in hives from here.”  

He snorts. “You should try being in the same room as them.”

Peter mock-shivers. “I doubt I’d survive it. Your other runs?”

Stiles sobers as he remembers his second run. “I was riding my dad about getting healthy, and went on a vegan diet myself as a show of solidarity. I had an ulterior motive, though—it stopped my periods. Took several months, but they stopped. Meant that, even with the drugs they shoot us full of for the mating runs, I didn’t go into heat. No one bothered with me as a result.”

Peter’s eyes are sharp. “That must have been hard on your body. You can’t tell me your father didn’t eventually notice.”

“Of course he did. He made me adjust my diet until I was back up to a healthy weight and menstruating again. So on the third run, I just . . . found some wild chamomile and tucked it up inside me. Worked like a charm. I taught it to some of the other omegas who didn’t want to be mated.”

Peter closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. You did what?”

“Chamomile,” he repeats evenly. “It’s an abortifacient. Made me smell wrong to the alphas looking to breed.”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t end up with a serious infection from that.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Of course I did! Everyone who used that method did. But it worked.”

“Dare I ask how you got out of your fourth run?” Peter huffs, staring at the ceiling of his office.

“Medical evacuation.”

Peter’s eyes snap to his face. “And what is that code for?”

“Nothing. I had a medevac because the fertility shot they gave me caused a cyst on my ovary to burst. It’s apparently a miracle I didn’t lose the ovary.” He talks about it like it wasn’t a big deal, like the agony and subsequent evacuation and emergency surgery weren’t among the most terrifying hours of his life.

“Did you sue the medical board overseeing the mating run?”

He shakes his head. “They offered to pay for the emergency surgery I needed if I wouldn’t. Since I was twenty-one at the time, and had just graduated, I didn’t have the savings or the insurance coverage to pay for it otherwise. I took the deal.”

Peter’s expression is grim. “Pity. What happened on the final three runs? You said that they made you complete the full seven? Even after what happened at your fourth?”

“Okay, I might have stretched the truth a little. I was actually given a medical exemption from my fifth run, because they ultrasounded my babymaker a week beforehand and found another cyst. And after what had happened the year before, they weren’t gonna take chances on having a repeat.” When Peter said nothing, he figured he may as well wrap up. “I went back on the extreme vegan diet from before. One of the doctors suggested it might help with the cysts, but mostly—”

“You were counting on it to keep you from going into heat, and thereby protecting you from another potential ruptured cyst.”

“Exactly.” He shifts uncomfortably at the look Peter’s giving him, but tries to ignore it. “My final run, I had an injury that required medical attention. Not enough for a medevac, but enough to send a medic in. I swiped a scalpel from the first aid kit, dug the tracker out of my arm, and snuck out of the arena. I snuck back in on the final night, scooped the tracker, and walked out with the others.”

“How did it escape their notice that you didn’t need to have the tracker removed?” Peter’s eyebrows are arched in disbelief.

Stiles shrugs. “It was basically sleight of hand. My dad’s the Sheriff, so I told the on-site medics that I needed to check in with him, and I told him that I’d already been to see them. Since my tracker wound up in the pile of removed registered chips, they all just figured the paperwork got lost.”

Peter rubs his face with one hand. “I can’t even count the number of laws you bent or flat-out broke with that little stunt,” he mutters.

He ducks his head to hide his smirk. “But since you’re my lawyer now, I’m entitled to attorney-client privilege, so it’s kind of a moot point.”

That, of all things, shocks a laugh out of Peter. “I’m very much going to enjoy working with you, Mr. Stilinski,” he says, standing and extending a hand.

Stiles gets up and shakes Peter’s hand. “Call me Stiles.”

 

***

 

Five years later, the Supreme Court rules in their favour. They celebrate with a tubal ligation and plan the wedding while Stiles recovers.

Derek never lives it down.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Additional Notes for this 'verse:  
> Man/woman are secondary genders. ABO designation is biological sex. Alphas have male-typical genitalia, plus a knot. Male betas are the same, sans knot. Omegas have female-typical genitalia, although they have heats. Female betas are the same, without heats. Alphas and omegas are set apart from betas in that they typically have a strong biological drive to breed, and are more likely to carry multiple children per pregnancy--hence referring to births as "litters". 
> 
> In addition, because "mother" and "father" are tied to a male/female gender binary, I've used "sire" and "dam" in their place, which simply apply to the impregnating and impregnated parents respectively.
> 
> . . . and now that I've gotten all ranty, I'm returning to my War on WIPs.


End file.
